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Hyperion inexplicably likes Liz, and he even appears to be on my side with regard to protecting my bonded human. He thinks we might be able to put Dad off, but only if he goes in my place and has some good news to report. Without tangible progress on locating the heart, we don’t have a lot of options. It took us days to subdue the local population here and make any real efforts at locating the heart once we arrived, so I’m not sure that forging ahead quickly with our move will be enough.
Hyperion had another suggestion, but it put me in a bad mood.
Liz slides off my back the very second I land and stomps her way down to the main area we use when I’m Azar. Once she’s in the living area, she starts pacing, taking big, bold steps from one side of the entryway all the way to the dining room and back.
When she’s agitated, she always paces.
I decide to shift—she’s more accustomed to talking than using mental energy to convey her thoughts. It’s the same reason we mostly speak in English when we’re alone, even though she can speak and comprehend our tongue thanks to the magic of the bond.
“Oh.” She freezes, her eyes widening. “You’re wearing jeans.”
“Is that alright?” I ask.
She swallows, her eyes still strained on my torso for some reason. “That shirt’s pretty small.”
“It’s the size Gideon always wears. I thought maybe it was a current style.”
Her lip twitches with what I’ve come to recognize as partially disguised mirth. “You’re copying Gideon now?” Her eyes finally rise to meet mine, their greenish-golden flecks almost sparkling. She’s happier than I expect her to be, in light of the recent news.
“You’re not distressed anymore?”
“About your dad?” She sinks onto a large leather wing chair she dragged from the corner into the edge of the family room yesterday, before my brother showed up with his pile of bad news.
“What else?”
She shrugs and slumps down into the chair. “Hm, let’s see. Your fiancée couldn’t manage to take my mom’s bond, so my siblings still don’t even know that she’s even alive. Your fiancée, in spite of all my best efforts to hate her, seems lovely. And dragons are still occupying my city, while I’m essentially powerless to do anything.” She shakes her head slowly. “I’d say I have plenty of things to be distressed about.”
“I don’t think I’d call you powerless,” I say. “Although we should spend a little bit of time every day testing what exactly your powers are now.”
“Testing—wait. Do you mean training me to do things? Magical things? Not, like, magically lobotomizing other humans, but fighting and stuff?” She stands up almost robotically, like she’s a puppet and someone has yanked on her strings. Her eyes are bright, though. She’s definitely excited about it.
I’ve also noticed she hasn’t been wearing her visor. “I know you don’t particularly enjoy having the power to control other humans, but the whole reason?—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t like it.”
“Your visor focuses all your abilities. It’s not just to augment your powers of mind control.”
“Even so,” she says. “I don’t like wearing it. It looks like I’m one of the pod people.”
“It’s tied to me,” I say. “And wearing it will help you identify what strengths you’ve gained.”
She glowers, but she pulls it out of a box at the edge of the room and slams it into place on her face, the metal wings snapping upward as they’re engaged. “It still feels like a collar.”
With the mood she’s in, fighting may not be the best idea. “We do have a lot going on today. Maybe we start the training tomorrow.”
But my bloodthirsty little lunatic has already drawn her swords. I can’t help my smile. I’ve adored her feral nature since she stabbed me with that defunct umbrella the day we met.
“More than practicing with the swords, we need to see what you’re able to?—”
“What exactly can you do in this shape?” She eyes me intently, her gaze dropping slowly from my face, downward.
For some reason, her gaze sends a little tingle from the back of my neck all the way down my body. This humanoid form is strange and it irritates me more than anything else. I don’t feel quite at ease in it, probably because I’m so vulnerable. How humans can walk around with a mushy-squishy exterior is beyond me. One puff of flame, one snap of teeth, and they’re nothing more than goo.
Even their internal support system is so frail. Mine is much stronger, but it’s still less substantial than my typical blessed frame.
“Can you. . .throw fireballs when you’re pretending to be human?” She arches one eyebrow. “Or, I don’t know. Dig a big hole?”
“I haven’t ever tried to control fire as a human. Remember, in this form, I’m Axel.”
